Man of the House
by Smileyfax
Summary: In this sequel to 'My Best Friend', Jake tells his side of the story - past and present. Rated M for dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

There was an unfamiliar SUV in the driveway when I pulled in coming home from work. I quickly assessed the situation: There was nobody in the vehicle (no tinted windows), and nobody waiting at the front door. It was possible they had tried the back door, but I discarded the notion. The front door was unlocked, and didn't appear to have been forced.

I cautiously entered the house, one hand in my suit jacket's pocket, finger inside the trigger guard, ready to ventilate anybody who tried to attack me. I had taken the gun out of storage after my little girl was...attacked. I should have bought it the second she told me what that bastard Trent Lane had done to his own sister (not to mention her), but I had stupidly thought she was safe.

I heard low talking in the kitchen area, and lowered my guard (by just a hair), as I recognized Daria as one of the voices. She didn't sound frightened, so I walked into the kitchen to see who our guest was.

She looked up at me and, to my surprise, managed a cordial smile. She had hardly changed in the intervening fifteen years. "Hello, Jake," Helen greeted. "You'll never guess who I ran into today at the courthouse."

Daria's flair for sarcasm and understatement was genetic, you see.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. God, she had hardly changed. "Daria, could you excuse...your mother and I?" She nodded, unsurprised, and went upstairs. She had seen the picture of Helen and Quinn, so naturally she recognized the woman (though she hadn't guessed that the baby in the photo wasn't herself).

Helen and I remained quiet until we heard the door to her room upstairs close. "It's funny, Jake," she said to me, the cordial smile twisted into that razor-wire grin (as I thought of it) that she always wore whenever she was pissed at me, or whenever she grilled somebody on the witness stand. "It's funny that, within six months of my moving here to Lawndale, you and Daria show up in the exact same town. Isn't that funny?"

"Helen..." I trailed off.

She placed the palms of her hands flat against the kitchen table, in full-on lawyer mode. "I know, I know, Jake, 'I just want to be close to Quinn'. Doesn't it strike you as pathetic that you want to be close to her, even though she doesn't even know you exist? That, unless I allow it so, she will never know you exist?"

"Daria was never supposed to know you exist, either," I pointed out impotently.

"And yet, she seemed to recognize me today at the courthouse."

The courthouse. Today was Trent Lane's sentencing. I knew Daria would be there, but I had to wonder why Helen was there. I asked her as much.

"Oh, one of my bigger clients had a sentencing hearing today. It was the strangest thing, he burst into song...what?"

My fury was beginning to show, and I had to force it down, lest I allow something bad to happen. "Does this client have a name, Helen?"

"Jake, you know full well I can't divulge -"

"Did you know that Trent Lane put his hands on Daria?"

For once, I was graced with the sight of Helen's mouth hanging open with nothing able to come out. Finally, she managed a weak-sounding "What?"

"I'm guessing Daria didn't tell you that she was acquainted with Trent Lane, through his sister. You know, the one he pimped out and raped -"

"That was NEVER PROVEN!" Helen insisted vehemently.

"Yeah, because it never went to trial! How do you suppose THAT happened?" My voice, as they say, was going up to eleven.

"I was just doing my job!" Helen shouted with an equal amount of volume. Her hands were now pressing so hard against the kitchen table, I expected them to begin to sink in at any second.

"That's right, Helen, for you it wasn't personal! Even though that miserable fucking excuse for a human being TOUCHED OUR DAUGHTER!" I slammed my fists down on the table, and Helen recoiled as if she had been struck.

For the first time, the information seemed to get through to her. "...What do you mean, touched?"

"I mean he wrapped a hand around her throat as an insinuation of a threat of physical harm, and then proceeded to put his hand on her leg as an insinuation of sexual assault."

The color drained out of Helen's face. "You saw this?" she whispered.

I shook my head. "Daria told me. I believe her." I almost went on to tell her about Daria's rape, but closed my mouth instead, as I didn't want to 'beat' my ex-wife so much that I would use Daria's trauma as a weapon against Helen.

Helen looked like she wanted to challenge that statement, but backed off at the last second. "I'm sorry, then," she muttered, facing away from me.

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry I went the extra mile and ensured that he wouldn't be put in with the general population."

I snorted. "Well, you can't do shit about it now," I philosophised.

We were silent. The digital clock on the microwave marked the passage of time...three minutes went by before I broke the silence.

"I want to see Quinn."

Helen looked me in the eye again and shook her head. "No."

"You got to see Daria, now I want to see Quinn."

"No, Jake."

I rushed around the kitchen table, faster, maybe, than she thought I was capable of. I grabbed her by the wrists and slammed her against the refrigerator door.

"Goddamnit, Helen, I want to see my little girl."

She looked me in the eye and pursed her lips. "No, Jake."

I quivered with anger for several heartbeats. She stared back at me, unafraid.

I lunged forward and smashed my lips against hers, my tongue rocketing forward into her mouth. Her tongue met mine, and together our tongues fought, a different kind of fight.

I let go of her with one hand and unzipped my trousers. Helen looked down at me, then back into my eyes. I could see the undisguised hatred and lust in equal quantities in them. She reached under her skirt, and I heard a tearing sound as she made her panties a non-issue, and then we were lost together.

XXXX

Afterward, we lay curled together on the kitchen floor, the cool linoleum tiles a sharp contrast to the incredible heat our bodies gave off. She idly played with my chest hair (probably noting in her mind how it was grayer than she remembered) where I took to using my eyes to memorize ever square inch of her all over again.

We heard movement upstairs, and the illusion was broken. She was once again Helen Barksdale, divorcee lawyer, and I was once again Jake Morgendorffer, single dad. We dressed quickly; I used a paper towel to remove the smudged lipstick from my face and...other parts, and she used a compact mirror to help reapply the makeup that had been smudged.

Finally, as we heard the sound of boots coming down the stairs, I whispered to her, "If not for me, do it for Daria. Let her know she has a sister, so they can meet."

She looked thoughtful. "I'll think about it," she finally answered, before going forth and telling Daria how wonderful it was to meet her, she would love to talk with her some more the other time, oh and is this your friend, what's her name, Jane Lane, oh, well, it was nice to meet you too, goodbye.

After Helen's SUV was out of sight (I knew it was out of sight because that's when Daria left her post at the window), Daria and Jane approached me. "We'll be at the arcade until dinner," she informed me after hesitating briefly. She walked towards the front door, but Jane stayed a moment longer.

She pointed to my left ear. "You missed some lipstick," she informed me, before joining Daria and leaving the house together.

I heard a faint chuckle. "Shut up, Old Man," I growled. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Sergeant Morgendorffer, I want you to lead the patrol around base ten miles out. Do you understand?"

"Sir, I -"

"This is a direct order, soldier! Do you fucking understand?"

I saluted. "Yes, sir, Colonel Mad Dog."

"Dismissed."

I blinked and I was deep in the jungle, the other members of my patrol nowhere to be seen. "Anthony? Coyote? Guys? Where are you?" I held my rifle at the ready and marched resolutely forward.

After a few minutes, I heard a groaning in the undergrowth. Acting on split-second reflexes, I swerved and emptied half a clip into the foliage. I rushed forward, ready to bayonet any Viet Cong I could find.

I found a young woman with auburn hair and round-framed glasses, her army fatigues stained dark with blood, trying to hold her intestines in with both hands. One of her legs ended just below the knee in a blackened mess - she had had an encounter with a land mine.

"It's okay, private, I'm a field medic," I assured her.

"Watch out for Trent," she gasped.

"Trent? Soldier, it's Charlie we have to watch out for."

I did my best to bandage her wounds, but I knew she'd need immediate surgery if her life was to be saved. I flicked on my radio. "HQ, HQ, this is Sergeant Morgendorffer. I need an immediate medical evac at coordinates -"

"No need, Morgendorffer," Mad Dog's voice growled over the radio. "Your position is deep in enemy territory. The napalm will be dropping in thirty seconds."

"No, damnit, we need an evac! Hello? Hello? DAMNIT!" I threw the useless radio away. "Come on, private, we have to get out of here." I tried to lift her up to drape onto my shoulders, but she was stuck to the ground as if she weighed ten thousand pounds.

"Go on without me, dad," she whispered.

"NO!" I roared, redoubling my efforts, but it was no use. I could hear the plane engines overhead, and the jungle all around us lit up brighter than the sun. I screamed as the flames engulfed us, screamed even though there was no air in my lungs, only fire. Daria screamed, too, and even though my eyeballs had already burst, I could see the flesh melting off her skeleton.

XXXX

I awoke with a start. The sudden movement knocked one of the empty bottles off the table in front of me, making me wince when it exploded against the linoleum. I got the broom and swept up the mess.

Of course, the Old Man hadn't been in Vietnam. He was far too old to serve at that point. Daria hadn't been there either. (She wouldn't even be born until some years after the end of that conflict). Willow wasn't there; he was a friend from before I was expelled from Middleton. Anthony might have been in Vietnam, but I only knew him as Daria's history teacher.

The dream was a new variation of a recurring one I've had ever since returning to civilian life. Sometimes the private is one of the young men I patched up to no avail; sometimes it's one of my childhood friends driven off by the Old Man; sometimes it's me.

Sometimes I'm the insane colonel.

I don't usually dream. I only dream when I'm drunk. I only drink when I hear the Old Man, giving me hateful remarks on my life, ranting about how much better he was than me, or just chuckling at the misery my life is.

I dream an awful lot.

XXXX

Summer passed by rather uneventfully.

Daria would meet up with Helen almost every day, and sometimes I would be there. I don't know what their chats were like when I wasn't there (she didn't tell and I didn't ask), but when I was there, Helen and I kept exchanging meaningful glances. I knew Daria knew something was up, but the ball was in Helen's court in regards to Quinn.

I thought Daria and I would end up growing closer over those summer months, after what seemed to be a thawing in our relationship towards the end of her sophomore year. I guess inaction on both our parts let things slip back to the way they were. It was probably better that way, too.

It killed me to have this great expanse between us, but if I let my emotions out for the barest amount of time, they would control me. They would run away from me, and I would do something horrible again, and I would lose Daria forever like I'd lost Helen forever.

Better this way...

XXXX

A few weeks into Daria's junior year, Helen called me. She told me we'd be getting invitations to her niece's wedding in the mail soon. She would be at the wedding.

With Quinn.

I hung up the phone, my heart pounding. "Daria?" I called. "Come down here, please? Bring that picture of your mother."

She came down after a few minutes with Jane (there was no use separating the two, and I made a note to call Helen back and see if I could get Jane an invite). The photo was in her hand. Her brow was furrowed just a little and her lips were pursed, which meant that she was deeply curious.

I took the photo from her and caressed it. My finger lingered on the baby, and I closed my eyes and briefly imagined what Quinn was like now. I didn't daydream for long, though, as I had to break the news to Daria that she had a sister.

I gave her back the photo. "What do you know about this photograph, Daria?" I asked her.

She frowned. "It's of me and mom. Why?"

I shook my head. "No, it isn't."

I was always proud of how smart Daria was. It didn't take her very long to figure out the implications of my statement. "This is...I have a sister?"

I nodded. "She lives with Helen."

Her eyes widened in shock, then she scowled. "If she's alive, if she's BEEN alive for however many years now, why am I only now being told about her?" Her voice got louder with each word. Jane squeezed her hand and patted her back, but none of the anger left Daria's expression.

"It...it was my call, kiddo. Until recently, I didn't think you would ever get to see her, so I didn't want you to get your hopes up -"

"GET MY HOPES UP?" Daria was now on her feet, her face a mask of rage. "For nearly my entire life, I've been utterly alone - no friends OR family. The only way my life would be different without you would be I'd probably end up in a homeless shelter - or if I was really lucky, a foster home. Hiding mom away from me, I can get. But you DARED to hide away MY SISTER?"

"Daria, it's..." I trailed off as Daria leapt from the seat and stormed upstairs. The sound of her door slamming made my ears wince, and then...then, she began screaming. Nothing coherent or garbled, just one long howl of fury and sadness.

Jane shrugged and went upstairs to try to comfort Daria.

In the back of my mind, the Old Man laughed and laughed and laughed. "You did a real fine job on this one, Jakey!" he cackled. "Real fine job!"

A few hours later, Jane came down alone and found me at my usual post in the kitchen. She cleared away the empty bottles (I had managed over a dozen this time) and started talking to me. I remember telling her about the wedding, and she said she'd tell Daria about it. Then we talked about other stuff, and she kissed me on the cheek, filled a glass of water for Daria, and left again. 


	3. Chapter 3

Daria was extremely disgruntled for the next few weeks in the lead-up to the wedding. The day after she blew up at me, she had a rather heated phone conversation with Helen. She demanded to speak to Quinn, but Helen rejected it, citing that she didn't want Quinn to talk to Daria while she was so 'upset'. Then Helen asked to talk to me, and she bitched me out for getting Daria so upset. After she ran out of steam, I managed to ask about Jane, and she at least agreed to that.

I got the silent treatment from Daria for a week after that - the only difference from our usual state of affairs being the dirty look she gave me whenever she saw me. I always turned away from the look, but I could still feel her eyes burning into my skin.

The silent treatment ended when Daria returned from her bridesmaid dress fitting. She was pissed off, as the saleslady had treated her very poorly, the tailor had done a bad fitting of the dress on her, and she was kicked out after cussing them both out and ripping the dress up (after changing back into her street clothes, of course). I reassured her that they were indeed cretins, and that I would take her to another dress store where they would hopefully treat her better. She was still frosty after that, but we were at least talking (a little).

That night, for a wonder, I didn't drink that much, and was able to make my way upstairs to sleep in my own bed. I stopped at the doorway, surprised to see Jane in my bed. "Uh, hey, Jane-o," I said, uncertain. "Did Daria kick you out of her room?"

Jane shook her head. "No, I...I decided I needed some space from her for now."

I nodded. "Well, why didn't you use the guest bedroom instead of my room?"

"Uh...well, I kind of left in a hurry." She looked away from me; I wondered if she and Daria had had a fight.

Like usual, I didn't pry. "Oh. Well, don't worry about getting up, Jane...I'll just sleep in the guest bedroom tonight."

Jane nodded. "Okay, Mr. Morgendorffer. Thank you...goodnight."

XXXX

The day we were to drive to Leeville arrived. The drive was a long one; eventually, Daria asked me the question that must have been weighing on her mind ever since she found out about Quinn.

"Dad, why am I with you and Quinn's with mom?"

"Well, your mom and I divorced just a little while after you were born. I got custody of you, of course."

"Really?" Daria asked flatly. I rolled my eyes.

"A few years later, I found out that your mother had gotten pregnant from the last time we were...uh...intimate." It was her turn to roll her eyes. "I fought for custody, or at least visitation rights, but she stonewalled me at every turn - she had gotten her law degree by then, and put up a much stronger fight than she had with you."

She sat in silence after that, absorbing the information. We arrived in Leeville two hours later.

XXXX

Helen waited for us outside the resort. With her was a young woman with red hair, her back to the three of us. My heart pounded with excitement. Helen put one hand on her shoulder. "Quinn, sweetie, put your cell phone away. You remember how I told you your father and sister would be here?"

She turned around, and my breath caught in my throat. She was breathtaking in her beauty, and I teared up. I would finally get to know my second daughter.

"Oh my GOD, my sister's the school DYKE?"

God damn it. 


	4. Chapter 4

Jane made as if to lunge at Quinn, but Daria held her back, and Helen got between her and Quinn, just to be safe. Helen shot a cold look at Quinn (a look I was intimately familiar with - the "We'll talk later, and you sure as hell won't like it" look), and stared down Daria and Jane until they had settled down. "Now, it's neither the time nor the place to have the discussion about your sexuality, Daria, but I want you to promise me there will be no 'fraternization' today."

A look passed between Daria and Jane. "Don't worry, mom," Daria reassured her in her pissed-off voice (which was almost indistinguishable from her regular monotone). "We won't be 'fraternizing'."

Rita, Helen's sister, came out of the resort then, and the two of them embraced. I knew they'd be at each other's throats before the day was out, unless things had changed drastically in the past decade. I was surprised to see that her boyfriend was Paul Meyerson, a buddy of mine from Boy Scouts.

As we caught up, the third Barksdale sister drove up in her convertible. "Amy, how delightful," Rita lied to her. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I wasn't, but I thought if you two could put aside years of bitterness and resentment, then so can I...for a day." She noticed Daria, Jane and I standing off to the side. "Speaking of bitterness and resentment...hello, Jake. And this must be my favorite niece," she said, shaking Jane's hand, putting a confused look on the girl's face. She then gave a conspiratorial wink at Daria, who looked similarly caught off-guard.

Amy then proceeded to dive head-long into an awkward conversation about Rita's current and previous boyfriends. I resisted the urge to agree with her comment about finding a little humor in senseless tragedy (it was easier to resist when I contemplated if she could find any humor in Jane's life), and watched as she followed Rita into the building. I lingered outside just long enough to hear Helen mutter that she needed a drink, then darted inside, ushering Daria and Jane along.

XXXX

"So you're like my dad and stuff?" Quinn asked. I had managed to catch up with her for a few minutes before the ceremony, and I wanted to find out more about her than her belief about Daria's sexuality.

"Yeah, sweetie...I can call you sweetie, right?"

She shrugged. "I guess so. Can I have your credit card?"

"What?"

"Well, mom won't let me borrow hers again for a whole freakin' week, and how the eff am I supposed keep up with the latest fashion trends with that kind of restriction?"

I was confused. "Er, sweetie, how long has it been since your mom banned you from her credit card?"

She flicked her hand dismissively. "Oh, like ten minutes, ever since I found out Dykeia Morgaydorffer was my sister."

I frowned. "Quinn, I don't think your sister is gay. And even if she were, 'dyke' is a bad word."

She sighed. "Whatever. Her and that weird art chick spend all their time together at school, it's so weird. I mean, that whole thing where that weird art chick was fuc...screwing the football team and a bunch of older guys was really creepy too, but I guess her brother was forcing her to do that? So I guess that put her off guys forever, and now she's with Dyk...Daria."

I could already feel a headache starting to form, as the Old Man's voice began chuckling and repeating Daria's name as bastardized by Quinn over and over. "Have you ever, uh, seen anything indicating they're an actual couple?"

"Well, they hold hands and stuff sometimes. PDAs are banned in school, so unless they wanted to get expelled, they totally wouldn't make out in the halls or whatever. And brains don't like missing school." She shuddered at the habits of 'brains'.

"Look, Quinn, I don't think your sister's a lesbian, so could you do your best to kill any rumors like that?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Like I'd even admit she's my sister," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" I asked sharply.

"Geez, I'll do my best, okay dad? Now can I have a credit card?"

XXXX

The ceremony itself went by without a hitch. It had looked like rain, but the 'I dos' were said and everybody got under cover before the skies could open up. Paul and I managed to catch up on what we had been up to since he had moved away; the conversation soon drifted into comparing Helen and Rita's performances in the bedroom (we concluded it must have been genetic).

"FUCK YOU!" The shout drew me away from the conversation with Paul, as I recognized Jane's voice. Upon arriving to where it had come from (along with several other people), I found her standing over the minister who had presided over the ceremony, one boot resting over his sternum. Daria looked on with a grim face, while Quinn had her back to the wall, a shocked look on her face.

Jane looked up at me. "I caught this piece of shit trying to get into Quinn's panties."

"I tried no such - erk!" The minister was cut off as Jane's boot slid from his sternum to his neck, pressing down just hard enough to interrupt his speech.

"Come on, your holiness," Daria chided. "'A wild, rolling, surging ocean of love'? Don't tell me that's from the Bible."

"You said what?" I asked, leaning over the fallen man of the cloth. "You said WHAT to my daughter?" An icy clamp had settled over my heart, and for once the Old Man shut up without having been drowned in an ocean of beer.

Rita arrived, the commotion drawing more people from the reception. "What's going on here?" Her eyes widened in shock at seeing Jane holding the man who had just wed her daughter at boot-point. "Young lady, you release Minister Edwards this instant! What the HELL is the matter with you?"

Jane complied, but set her furious gaze upon Rita. "I was just trying to prevent him from committing statutory rape, Ms. Barksdale," she explained. "It's something I've had experience with - being raped, I mean."

Rita looked incredulous. "Now see here, missy, I don't care what you've gone through, but Minister Edwards has been a close friend of the family for years, and he's never shown a single drop of...of what you claim!"

"Yes he has, mother."

Rita whipped around to Erin, her daughter, the woman who had just been married less than an hour ago by the very person she had just implicated in...my stomach turned at the thought. "Erin...what are you saying?"

Erin looked grave, but determined. "Why do you think I stopped going to church after I turned fifteen, mother?" She pointed at Edwards, who had by now stood up. "He took my...my virginity a few w-weeks before my birthday, and s-said if I told an-anybody, I'd go to h-h-h-Hell..." She trailed off and began silently sobbing.

Rita rushed forward and embraced her daughter. "Oh Erin," she soothed, tears running down her own face.

"This - these - are all slanderous lies! I cannot believe you would be taken in by these vipers! I simply..." He grew silent when he realized that the only viper in the room was him, and everybody knew it.

I took one step towards him, and he broke into a sprint. He was amazingly fast for such an older person, and made it out to his car in the parking lot before any of the onlookers to what had happened could catch up to him. One of the bridesmaids had already called the police, though, so unless he fled the state and assumed a new identity, he would be in custody before too long.

While most of the gathered crowd turned to offer condolences to Erin, I moved to Daria, Jane, and Quinn. "Jane, why didn't you just come get me or one of the other adults?" I asked her gently. "I can appreciate pressing your foot against his neck, but that might have violated your parole."

Jane shrugged. "It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing."

"Why did you do it? After...after that thing I said," Quinn asked. She still looked a little shaken.

Daria knelt down next to her. "Quinn, you may be an incredible bitch, but you're family. You're my goddamned sister. And Jane and I won't let any sick piece of shit hurt you if we can help it."

XXXXXXXXXXX

I apologize for the extreme delay from the last chapter to this one. I found it incredibly difficult to dip down into Angstland for this fic, as I've been dating a rather fantastic woman the past few weeks. (Yes, I'm bragging).

I did intend for this chapter to extend a little later chronologically, but in having a hard time filling the space between later planned events and the beginning few paragraphs which have been sitting untouched for weeks on my HD, I struck upon Jane having an adverse effect to overhearing the minister hit on Quinn, and from there it was easy to conceive of him being a repeat offender (hence Erin). I chose to name him Edwards because he shares the same deviance with substitute Ken; perhaps they're distant cousins. 


	5. Chapter 5

It all went to shit after that.

The reception had understandably begun to wind down quickly after the minister had fled and Erin publicly revealed that the man had molested her in her youth. When news of what happened reached Brian (Erin's new husband) he got into a screaming match with Erin, shouting that she was a whore, spoiled goods, sloppy seconds, basically every awful thing he could think of. She gave right back, pointing out that she never would have married him if he hadn't given her herpes.

Most of the remaining guests had the good taste to leave. Helen stayed because Quinn didn't want to leave Erin or Daria and Jane; I stayed because Daria and Jane didn't want to leave Quinn or Erin. All the other people who stayed did so simply to see if the evening would sour any more.

They got their wish.

I returned from the bar after filling up my drink (it was only my third of the evening, wonder of wonders) to find Helen talking into her cell phone. "BULLSHIT!" she shouted into it.

"What? What did he say?" Rita urged.

Helen practically cracked the cell phone open with how hard she hit the disconnect button. "Minister Edwards is a free man," she spat out. "It turns out he's very good friends with the DA, and he's ordered that no charges be pressed against him, because he's a pillar of the FUCKING COMMUNITY!" Helen kicked one of the nearby folding chairs, sending it clattering on its side.

"He...he can't do that!" Rita insisted, still believing the world was just. "He raped my baby! He tried to rape your daughter!"

"Apparently the statute of limitations for...for what he did to Erin has expired, and we can't prove he had any...intent to do the same thing to Quinn. DAMNIT!" Helen struck the table in front of her with her fist. I briefly wondered if the cracking sound I heard was the table starting to give way, or one of her bones fracturing.

Rita fumed. Then, her eyes focused on Helen with a laser-like intensity. "You're loving this, aren't you," she said, her voice icy. "Saint Helen, ever the martyr, finally has something to lord over 'Rita the retard'."

Helen looked aghast at the accusation. "What? No! I would never -"

Rita slapped her. "Shut up, you fucking liar. My kid gets raped, yours doesn't, the piece of shit who raped her GOES FREE...tell me, Helen, how does it feel to finally get something that I don't have?"

"Mom, please..." Erin had approached and attempted to defuse the H-bomb that any Barksdale sisters reunion inevitably turned into.

"ERIN, THIS DOES NOT CONCERN YOU!" Rita screeched in her daughter's face. I subtly nodded to myself; this was indeed just the latest round in the Helen-Rita-Amy feud.

"Don't talk to your daughter that way!" Helen protested.

"At least I TALK to my daughter!" She gestured to Daria. "You didn't speak to THAT one for damn near fifteen years, I hear! Another thing I heard...you DEFENDED HER RAPIST IN COURT! Was it just business, Helen, or do you just love seeing little girls who aren't yours getting raped?"

The sound of the slap made my eardrums throb with pain. An angry red welt the shape of Helen's hand was already raising itself on Rita's cheek.

"Don't you DARE say that about MY FUCKING CHILDREN AGAIN, YOU BITCH!"

I looked down and realized I'd finished my drink. I set my shoulders and proceeded back to the bar.

XXXX

I don't remember how many drinks I had after that. Ten? Twelve? However many it was, it was way, way too fucking many. At the time, I thought it was way, way too fucking few, as I could still hear Helen and Rita yelling through the buzzing of my brain being saturated in booze.

They had been rehashing arguments which predated my relationship with Helen; hell, they had probably dragged up that old chestnut about which one of them had the fancier crib, or the better-tasting prenatal vitamins. I was disgusted with the whole scene, and was trying to reach blackout drunk as fast as I could.

Someone sat down next to me. "Hey, Mr. Morgendorffer, how are you doing?"

I turned my unfocused gaze upon her. "Could be better, Amy," I replied. I drained the last of my drink and gestured to the bartender that he should bring me a new one. "Whad'you think 'bout the Barksdale Bitches back there?" I jerked a thumb in Helen and Rita's direction, just so she would be absolutely certain I wasn't referring to another pair of Barksdales. "No 'ffense to you, 'fcourse."

"None taken." She bowed her head, then winked at me. "Want to go back to your hotel room?"

I almost rejected her offer, as apart from the occasional liaison with Helen, I never engaged in casual sex. However, my drunkenness, combined with the conversation I'd had with Paul earlier on the comparison of Helen and Rita's bedroom attributes, pushed my curiosity past my caution. "Sure thing, Amy."

XXXX

I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. I staggered out of bed to use the bathroom, and to snag a handful of aspirin from the bottle I'd put in there the day before. After dry-swallowing them, I realized too late that doing so always made me nauseous, and I bent over the toilet and almost vomited. After about ten minutes, the urge to vomit had subsided, and I moved to the sink and turned it on, slurping water from my cupped hands.

I walked back into the bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks. "You're not Amy," I said, feeling my stomach drop down to my ankles.

"No, I'm not," Jane agreed, sitting up, wearing nothing but her earrings. 


	6. Chapter 6

I immediately retreated back into the restroom and vomited. In between heaves, I heard Jane approach, and felt her place a hand on my back. "Are you alright, Mr. Morgendorffer?" she asked gently.

"Oh, I think we're past you calling me 'Mr. Morgendorffer', Jane," I told her, sounding less sarcastic than I intended as it was sandwiched between one round of heaving and another.

"Look, if you're worried about the age thing, sixteen is legal in this state, and I'm seventeen, and -"

"Why?"

I think my question caught her off guard. "Why?" she echoed.

"Why me, Jane? Why did you elect to have sex with me?" I waited for her to answer. After a few moments, I spoke up again. "Was it out of some sense of obligation, some way of thanking me for taking you in?"

She shook her head 'no', almost violently so. "No, Mr. Morgen - I mean Jake. I respect you too much for that."

I contemplated this as I meditated over the porcelain bowl for a few moments longer, waiting to see if I would continue heaving. Once I was sure my stomach was no longer rebellious, I stood and approached the sink, to make use of the travel-sized mouthwash I had packed. After gargling, I turned back to Jane. "So you respect me enough to not have gratitude sex with me, but you don't respect me enough to try to have sex with me on my terms."

"Huh?"

"You allowed me to believe you were Amy Barksdale last night, Jane."

"Well, I, uh..."

"Please, Jane, I want you to tell me how you can respect me and rape me at the same time."

I was pissed off, and I shouldn't have pressed her so hard. But I did, and she began crying. And the Old Man laughed, and congratulated me on a job well done, and I felt like throwing up all over again.

Instead, I put a hand on Jane's shoulder. "Does this have anything to do with Daria?" I asked.

She squinted at me through her eyelids, and I saw her deciding what she should tell me, or whether she should tell me anything at all.

"Dad, I hope you don't mind Amy and I stayed out all night, but -"

If Jane and I had gotten dressed instead of me doing my best to hurt Jane, I'm sure my life wouldn't have bottomed out right then.

"What the fuck? WHAT the FUCK?" Daria demanded. "Did you fuck her, Dad? DID YOU FUCK HER?"

I opened my mouth to protest the situation, that (like an old tired cliche) it wasn't what it looked like, but I spared one more glance to Jane. I saw fear in her eyes, and pleading. Something was definitely going on between them, but I was too damned tired and hung over to puzzle over what exactly it was.

Regardless, I had an idea of what Jane wanted, and I decided to be kind to her, to make up for how I had lost my temper just moments before.

Instead of answering Daria's question, I turned away from her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daria's jaw quiver, and I think she wanted to scream at me some more, but instead she took Jane's hand and led (dragged) her around the room, scooping up Jane's discarded clothes with her free hand, shoving the bundle at Jane once she had grabbed all the garments.

After Jane had dressed, Daria gave me a hard look once more, but again refused to talk. Only as she led Jane out of the room did I notice that Amy and Quinn were standing just outside the doorway. Quinn's face bore disgust, whereas Amy's was full-on revulsion.

Once the four had left, I reflected how I had probably lost both my daughters forever, just to protect Jane. Protect her from what, though?

The sharp pain in my chest forever distracted me from the question. As I keeled over and tried (and failed) to reach the phone on the nightstand, my last thought was the Old Man talking to me. "See you soon, Jakey. See you real soon."

XXXXXXXXXX

Thus ends Man of the House!

I know there's still a lot of unanswered questions about exactly what the hell is going on between Daria and Jane. That's intentional! I'll focus on a lot of that stuff in the conclusion of the trilogy. I don't yet have a title in mind, and I'm not sure who the narrator will be, but I do have a general idea of what will happen, and I hope to bring the series to a satisfactory finale.

One thing is for sure - things are going to get worse for our intrepid heroines before they get better. 


End file.
